


The Maiden in the Tower

by LustOnMyFingers



Series: A Love Undying [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Because season eight never happened, Breast Play, Crack, Cuddling, F/M, Featuring the Jon Snow we fell in love with for seven seasons, Fluff, Foreplay, House of the Undying, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Romance, Seduction, Shade of the Evening, Song inspo: Des'ree - Kissing You, This fic is my love letter to Daenerys, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustOnMyFingers/pseuds/LustOnMyFingers
Summary: Following the queen's verymagicalanniversary gift to celebrate their ten years together, King Jon Snow just can't seem to fall asleep. After accidentally consuming yet more strange blue wine, he sneaks out of their bed and away from a sleeping Daenerys to explore the House of the Undying on his own—startled by what he finds inside. His wife. Only this time, she's nearly two decades his junior, red-faced and weeping (part two of four).
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: A Love Undying [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635799
Comments: 94
Kudos: 276





	The Maiden in the Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyTarg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTarg/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【囧丹/授翻】囚于高塔的少女](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561734) by [grapeonthewall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapeonthewall/pseuds/grapeonthewall)



> Dedicated to [LadyTarg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTarg/) as a thanks for organizing not only this event, but so many incredible events that I've participated in year after year. Who knows how many fics wouldn't exist without your efforts that in turn, inspire our creativity each time one of these events rolls around - such as this fic, and even the two that will follow it, since you had inspired me directly to push my imagination even further. Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm. You are a shining gem in our fandom. ♥
> 
> Written for [Jonerys Valentine's Week 2020](https://iceandfiresource.tumblr.com/post/190221038491/jonerys-valentines-week-2020-lace-and-leather), for the prompt: First Time
> 
> Reading part one is not necessary unless you require the backstory. All you really need to know before going into this one is that Jon and Daenerys are on a honeymoon in Qarth and this magic is happening within the House of the Undying.
> 
> **Trigger warning** : The Daenerys in this story is the same as was featured in the pilot episode of season one. Meaning that, while of age in Westeros, she is under the legal age of consent across much of planet earth. You've been warned.

* * *

This time, as Jon approached the steps of the ruined stone tower, he could see the carved oval face of its door staring back at him, as if awaiting his return. Again it swung open as he ascended the steps.

Though the chilling silence indicated there wasn't a living soul around, he found a lit torch mounted to a wall just inside. And considering it was pitch-dark within the ancient entrance hall, he retrieved it before heading into the corridor.

The climate changed the further Jon traveled through the tower—the dry desert heat of Qarth giving way to a thankfully cooler temperature, closer to what he was used to back in King's Landing.

Though faint, he could hear a woman weeping from somewhere deep inside the structure. Compelled, he followed the noise until he could more clearly make it out. While he had only heard her weep in such a fashion a handful of times in their ten years together, Jon felt fairly certain that it was Daenerys.

The recognition instantly panicked him. Swiftly, his legs carried him through the long and empty halls, the fruitless search leaving him frantic. When after several moments the weeping seemed to wane, Jon began to cry out for her in desperation.

"Dany!"

A sudden breeze swept through the hallway, kicking up ancient dust all around it. It smelled like salt and sea. Jon set the torch on the ground and cautiously approached the doorway from which it came. Somewhere inside, his wife wept.

After stepping through the threshold, the king found himself inside a tall chamber, bright with sunlight and pale stone walls. A vast painting of sailing ships covered the wall, stretching high to the ceiling. Potted and hanging plants adorned the room, vines wrapping around tall marble columns. In the middle sat a hexagonal bath full of still water. The smell of brine was heavy in the air as a crisp breeze came in from the terrace, blowing two sheer curtains that obscured a familiar feminine silhouette.

"Is that you, Dany?"

Unlike the previous visions, this Daenerys seemed to acknowledge him, her head angling toward his voice. She took care to wipe her tears away before confronting him, standing tall to steel herself.

And when she turned, Jon was immediately struck by her beauty—her radiance outshining even the sun as it set behind her, crowning her mess of molten silver waves with a golden halo.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my chamber?"

Jon squinted to examine her face, backlit by the sunset. Her features were soft and round and youthful—the clay from which his current wife and queen had been sculpted.

"Princess," he greeted breathlessly, immediately dropping to one knee. "Excuse my rude intrusion. My name is Jon Snow."

"You're from my country," she noted.

"Aye," he confirmed, slowly rising to his feet.

"Why are you here?"

The instant Daenerys stepped closer and into a softer light, Jon's cheeks grew hot. The thin dress she wore hadn't concealed any detail of the body beneath it. And though he'd seen it thousands of times by now... this Daenerys wasn't yet his.

Out of respect, he averted his gaze as best he could. Jon hated to lie to his wife, even dreamlike manifestations of her—and so, he settled on a half-truth.

"I'm... a friend of your brother."

The answer did not appear to impress her as she blankly stared forward.

"Did he send you?"

"I came on my own. I heard you just outside."

The confession seemed to impress her even less.

"And you thought it wise to invite yourself in?" she challenged, pausing—but not long enough to receive an answer. "I'd like you to leave."

Jon gulped. "Wait, Dany."

"You are too familiar for a man I've never met," she snapped.

Her sharp words sent him back to another point in time—aboard the ship where he had first used the endearment.

"But I've met _you_."

Her body stiffened. "When?"

"What age are you now?"

Daenerys glared. 

"Sixteen?" Jon guessed.

The girl neither confirmed nor denied it.

"About six years from now."

"I'm fifteen."

"Then seven."

She gave an incredulous chuckle. "You expect me to believe such nonsense?"

"Perhaps if I could prove it?" Jon's eyes caught on the tub at the center of the room. "I know that you prefer scalding hot baths."

"Any servant could have told you that."

"That's fair," he conceded, nibbling at his bottom lip as he dug through his mind for something better. "You had a lemon tree outside your window as a child."

"My brother could have told you that."

Jon sighed. "You love the sea. And when you fled from city to city, you enjoyed sailing so much you wanted to be a sailor."

"Just another thing Viserys could have tol-"

" _You_ told me," he interrupted. "How the endless blue of both sky and sea made you feel small yet free." Finally, he had found something that struck a chord with her. "That ring on your finger belonged to your mother," he said. "Aside from when you bathe, it never leaves your hand."

Daenerys looked as though she'd seen a ghost. Jon took a cautious step toward the girl, lowering his voice just in case.

"And I would sooner geld your brother than let him utter a single word to you again."

She took a step away from him. "You said you were his friend..."

"I didn't mean Viserys."

Though she tried to keep her composure, a different sort of sadness washed over her as she considered his words.

"You knew Rhaegar."

"In a way," Jon smirked.

"A strange man from both my future and my homeland who calls me by a name that only my brother uses... yet who also threatens to _geld_ him," she considered aloud.

"I know how it sounds." _Not good_ , he thought.

"How did you get here?"

"I'm not sure I _am_ here," he confessed. "I'm inside a tower in Qarth."

" _Qarth_ ," she let out a chuckle of disbelief.

"I agree it sounds absurd."

She raised an eyebrow, reclaiming the distance she'd put between them by stepping toward him and examining his face.

"Suppose I humor your claims," she said. "Tell me how we meet."

"You send for me."

"Why would I send for a man I don't know?"

"You know _of_ me. A mutual friend summons me on your behalf."

"I don't have any friends," she confessed.

Jon felt a sharp stinging in his heart, clearly recalling tales of how lonesome his wife had felt nearly all her life—that lonely girl standing just in front of him now.

"Not yet. But soon you'll make many."

For a brief instant, her violet eyes had turned glassy. Daenerys blinked the tears away.

"Where do we meet?"

"Dragonstone."

This time, a tear had escaped from the corner of her eye. Quickly, she wiped it from her cheek. Daenerys turned from Jon and walked back to the terrace.

Taking slow and careful steps, Jon followed after her. He walked through the curtains, blinking as the sun's brightness pervaded his vision, burning low on the horizon.

Daenerys stared out across the narrow sea—about where Dragonstone should be. Her longing was palpable. If only he could take her there now.

"I make it home," she whispered.

"You do."

She turned her head to face him. "And Viserys?"

He shook his head. And while she took his answer to heart, it didn't seem to upset her. Once more she lifted her gaze to meet his, intently studying his eyes as she readied her next query.

"Khal Drogo?"

Again, Jon shook his head, feeling a touch less remorse for her fallen husband than that of his uncle—since, knave or not, Viserys at least shared his blood.

A hint of a smile curved Dany's lips then. Seemingly relieved, she took a few more deep breaths, letting the truth settle in her mind as she turned back toward the sea. Wine-dark waves crashed against the rocks, wind roaring like a dragon. In silence, the pair stood together as the sun sank into the sea, ruby-red rays bleeding into the rough waters.

The king watched as her gaze shifted toward the horizon. He hoped that, just like it had when she was a girl, its vastness made her feel free. Even at five-and-ten, Daenerys had nearly perfected the mask she wore—her expression both withdrawn and indifferent. By now, she could fool nearly anyone.

Anyone but him.

It was her eyes that belied her efforts, revealing the constant storm in her mind that she had tried so hard both to conceal and to keep at bay.

Only when she had caught him did Jon realize he'd been staring. Her violet gaze danced with curiosity as she examined him in turn. Ever since setting foot in her chamber, Jon could feel the tug of the innate bond that first drew them together. It took every last shred of his self-discipline to ignore it now.

Daenerys took a step closer to him—so close that he could smell the spiceflower on her skin.

"You never said how you got here."

He hesitated long enough to deduce the most simple way to explain it. "Years ago, my wife had once encountered the warlocks of Qarth."

"Your wife?"

Jon nodded, feeling a strange sense of guilt as he continued. "I suspect that's when she learned that one could walk through visions here. By way of a magical blue wine."

"The tower that you're inside, you mean?"

"Aye."

Without reaction, Daenerys considered the unlikely story.

"Did you drink this wine?"

"Aye."

"Because you hoped to have a vision?"

"More or less."

The princess narrowed her eyes. "If not a vision, what did you hope to see?"

"I was looking for my wife," he admitted.

She folded her arms. "Yet it was me you found instead."

And since it wasn't a question, he said nothing. Daenerys again slipped away and into her thoughts. The sinking sun had turned the breeze cold, pimpling her bare arms with gooseflesh. Again, Jon fought the instinct to gather her up in his embrace to keep her warm.

The princess rubbed her arms as she turned to head back inside her chamber. A brisk gust blew open the curtains as Jon passed through them to follow her, the ripple of the fabric echoing throughout the cavernous room.

Daenerys began to ascend the steps at the far side of her chamber, stopping midway up to look over her shoulder, as if beckoning him to follow.

And so he did.

The room opened into a loft at the top of the small stairwell, candlelight flickering all along the walls. In the center sat a large bed, vines coiling around its carved wooden frame. Sitting on an expanse of white sheets at the edge of the bed was his wife, the princess—dwarfed by the sheer size of such a piece.

Jon cautiously approached, mindful to keep a respectful distance from the girl, though her gaze had since shifted from curious to suspicious.

"Shall I take my leave, princess?"

She shook her head. "I'd like to hear more."

Thanking the gods she had granted them more time together, he nodded. Jon then walked to the ledge, peering down to confirm that they were still alone before taking a seat across from her, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-three."

She nodded. "Where do you live?"

"I live in King's Landing."

She raised her eyebrows. "If what you tell me is true, you're a long way from home."

"I traveled here."

"With your wife?"

"Aye."

"What for? The visions?"

"Sort of," he confessed, feeling a heat rising steadily in his cheeks as he recalled his wife's true intent in dragging him so far east to Qarth. Though their antics were of no concern for a girl of ten-and-five. "We came to Qarth to celebrate the anniversary of our wedding."

"How long have you been married?"

"Ten years."

Her irises flitted upward as if in concentration, fingers tapping one after the other against her knee.

"Tell me how you met your wife."

Caught off-guard by the increasing personal nature of her questions, the king took a moment to consider exactly how much to reveal as he reminisced. He couldn't keep from smiling as he remembered the tense scene on Dragonstone—his desperation, her stubbornness, and the mutual exasperation that followed.

"There was a threat to my kingdom. And if truth be told, she was the only one in all the world who could help. And so, I went to her."

"You're the _king_?"

Jon hesitated. He hated to lie to her, and so, he simply refined the truth. "I was king then. Just in the north," he explained. "For a time."

"The seven kingdoms break apart?"

"For a time," he repeated, sharing a small, proud smile with the very woman who would go on to unite them like the Conqueror before her.

Briefly, her eyes flitted back toward the open terrace below, where the heavy winds still whipped through the curtains.

"The northern kingdom was yours?"

"Aye."

"Winterfell," she quickly replied.

He remembered Winterfell, then. Riding along the kingsroad, heart swollen with pride that his people's saving grace rode beside him. Simply recalling their mistrust and disrespect for her ruffled his feathers even now—the woman who would save them for nothing at all in return, save for him.

Even after they had wed, his queen was slow to open up about her past. There was one night that swam to the surface of his mind, now. Tangled up in sweat-soaked sheets, hearts thumping too fast to sleep. Those were the times she had revealed the most to him about her past.

She had confessed once that though her brother had taught her all about the seven kingdoms—of the great houses scattered across the realm, each bearing their own sigil and seated in grand castles—she thought of them as little more than stories at the time. Just words, as she had described them. Wind and words.

"Whose seat is Winterfell?"

"The Starks."

Fear flashed in her eyes, slicing straight through Jon's heart like a blade. Her lip curled into a snarl. "Usurper's dogs," she spat. "They would sooner see me dead."

The pain of the accusation tore through his body. A tightness tugged at his throat, lending a rasp to his voice as he spoke.

"I would sooner die than hurt you."

The resounding conviction of each word seemed to jar her, and she soon relaxed, her muscles and posture loosening.

Jon held Dany's gaze, afraid any sudden word or movement might cause unnecessary alarm.

"This threat you spoke of," she continued, "Did you give your hand in exchange for her help?"

"She offered her help freely."

"Why?"

"That's a very good question, princess," he said.

_And maybe someday you will tell me_.

When no further explanation came, Daenerys commented, "That sounds naive."

Feeling defensive, Jon quickly corrected her. "Noble," he said. "Selfless."

The abrupt retort seemed to amuse her—another smile began to play on her lips before she pressed them together.

"What else?"

"What do you mean?"

"She is noble and selfless. What else?"

Jon softened as the woman he loved most in all the world gazed back at him, utterly ignorant of her own grandeur.

How in seven hells could he describe Daenerys Targaryen simply?

He remembered the first time he saw her mounted upon Drogon's back, the smooth confidence with which she dismounted him, and the glee in her eyes as he flew up into the clouds to dance with his brothers.

"Powerful," he said.

The heat of Drogon's flame still felt hot against his back as he recalled whispering his final prayers to the old gods, accepting the end of his life—the life that she refused to let the undead take from him. Fire rained all around them, turning a sheet of ice into waves of scalding water, droplets burning as they hit his skin.

"Courageous."

The desperation in her eyes as she tried to take his hand. That she had risked her life to save just a handful of men, harboring no regret or resentment despite the crushing loss she faced that day—one that still haunted her all these years later.

"Merciful."

And though he had neglected to take her hand when she had so kindly offered it, he remembered the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again south of the Wall. Her likeness, glowing silver as she came into focus, awash with relief as he woke.

"Tender."

And so long ago, on yet another ship, he remembered the way one soft kiss soon exploded into an insatiable hunger. He had a taste only for her, an appetite that had yet to ebb.

"Passionate," he added, emotion wavering his voice as his mind wandered to the inevitable, to the very fruit borne of their many trysts. "And nurturing, too."

Each time her belly swelled, so had the king's pride—the novelty of each child as fresh and exciting as the first. Which had been Aemon, confirming once and for all how little duty meant compared against the feel of a newborn son in his arms. Though unlike his namesake, the babe had a head of dark curls as unruly as his father's. His wife had been so captivated by the boy that, at times, Jon almost feared he might be supplanted from her heart altogether. And perhaps she harbored the same fear, for when next came his baby girl—born with a crown of silver like her mother—he could scarcely let go of her long enough to let her feed. They had named her Rhaenys, for he had vowed to provide her a safe and happy life—exactly the kind his sister should have had.

Another silver-haired girl had soon followed. With her chubby little legs and cheeks, she was the spitting image of Rhae, save for grey eyes rather than violet. Named for the queen who bore the same moniker as his lady wife—as fitting for the Good Queen Daenerys as Alysanne. Though they called her Alys, as it was easier for her siblings to pronounce once they began to speak.

Last to join their family, at least thus far, were the twins, who had favored their eldest brother, Aemon, as well as Jon. When Daenerys had suggested they honor his mother, Jon knew the perfect name to match Lyanna's twin brother. Benjen. For the man who not only gave his life for Jon, but whose words of warning still rang clear in his head all these years later, explaining what exactly the price of his oath to the Night's Watch would cost him.

_We have no families. None of us will ever father sons._

_I don't care about that,_ Jon had once insisted.

_You might. If you knew what it meant._

How right his uncle had been. In truth, there were few things aside from his family that mattered to Jon. In some ways, he wished his heart were as big as his wife's. For the love she held for others didn't end where her blood stopped flowing—her heart had openly bled for those of every ilk. Kind, she was—yet ruthless against those who would hurt and exploit others. She freely lent her voice to the many who could not speak for themselves, stopping at nothing to grant liberty to those yearning to breathe free, no matter the cost.

"An altruist," he stated, pride squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. "She does whatever is right. No matter what."

The princess stared at him, unblinking, eyes wide and alert.

"She sounds like quite a woman."

Something about the intensity with which she looked at him had disarmed him. So much so, that whatever words he'd chosen to respond with had since fallen from his tongue.

"You must really love her."

"Aye," he agreed. "My heart never stood a chance."

Daenerys smoothed her skirt before sweeping her hair over her shoulders. The cool evening air had turned her nipples rigid under the barely-there sheath. Jon had to remind himself to look away from her body as she approached him.

His gaze instead traveled upward, locking with hers. She lifted either hand to gently cup his face, violet eyes wet and shining like polished gems as they bore into his, likewise misting his gaze. When Jon closed his eyes, a warm tear slid down his cheek until a small thumb wiped it away.

There came a sudden soft press to his lips, one that though he had felt thousands of times now, enkindled him just the same. Instinctively, he reached out to touch her—his right hand firmly gripping her waist. And as they continued to kiss, he reached upward to cup her face in turn, humming in delight as soft fingers raked through his beard.

Though it was the shy reservation with which she touched him that gave him pause, reminding him suddenly that this girl was not yet his, that he should not be touching her like this.

"Dany," he gasped her name as he pulled away. "My apologies, princess. I- I shouldn't have-"

When he gathered the nerve to look up at her, he was met with an unexpected, smug smile.

"So it is me."

Jon blinked. "What?"

"Your wife."

He swallowed. "What gave it away?"

"Your eyes," she said. "The way you look at me."

"And what way is that?"

"With reverence," her answer came softly. "No one has ever looked at me that way."

He smiled. "Then you had better get used to it, princess. I am neither the first nor the last."

The girl perked up, standing taller. A grin sprouted soon after.

_Beautiful_.

"If you're here with me, then where am I? In your time?"

"In bed asleep."

"Will I be upset to learn that we kissed?"

Jon couldn't help but chuckle. Seventeen years from now, this very girl would go on to suggest bringing a courtesan into bed. And upon his refusal, she would settle instead on producing a small army of her own duplicates to entice them both.

"No," he finally said. "In fact, you might just do the same to me, given the chance."

That answer seemed to amuse her. "Where are you now?" she asked. "Here in my time?"

"Either at the Wall or on my way there."

"The Wall of Westeros?"

He nodded. Dany took a seat beside him.

"Viserys says it's the biggest in all the world," she said, proud as if she'd built it herself.

Jon looked down as their thighs brushed together, freshly distracted by the wispy fabric that clung to her body. His sudden discomfort caught the attention of the princess.

" _Oh_ ," she flushed, tugging at the gauzy gown. "He insisted I wear a display dress for the Khal today."

The explanation had turned Jon's stomach to rot—imagining not only Dany's fear as the savage looked upon her nearly-bare body to appraise it, but at the still-resounding echo of her voice so many years ago on Dragonstone, recounting the atrocities she had endured on the long journey that led her home and knowing the Khal had been responsible for _several_.

"You're frightening me."

It was her comment that made him aware of the deep grimace etched in his face.

"I'm sorry, princess."

"Will I still become his queen?"

"Yes," he frowned.

It made her frown, too. "He's cruel to me," she guessed.

He shifted his body enough to face her directly, taking her face gently in his fingers. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I've never had a talent for lying to you, and I have no plan to start now."

Dany nodded between his hands.

"Your journey home will not be an easy one." He looked deeply into her eyes. "You will face horrors beyond all imagination. You must never lose faith in yourself, Dany."

His eyes welled as he pulled her against his chest, stroking her hair as they embraced. The fate of the world rested somewhere inside this deceptively slight woman, whose strength had yet to be whetted to its usual razor-sharpness.

Jon was reluctant to let go as she pulled away from him. But it wasn't for long, as she only stretched to better reach him, her lips quickly finding his again to take shy tastes of his mouth. Her kisses were as confident as could be expected of a maid, curious yet cautious.

On some level, he knew it was ill-advised to persist... but it was still Dany. His Dany. And every time he hesitated, she would chase right after him, stirring his desire.

"I trust you," she breathed against his lips, pulling away just enough to search his eyes. "If what you say is true, then I face years of terror before you find me again."

There was a sharp sting then, in both his eyes and nose. He swallowed the lump in his throat. If only he could protect her.

"Show me, Jon," she begged, cupping his face the same as he'd done to her. "Show me what it's like to be loved."

The wistful plea had extinguished the last of his reservation. After pushing the remaining air from his lungs, Jon pressed his forehead to Dany's. His hands scraped against the stone ledge as he tucked them underneath her bottom, waiting for her to wrap her arms and legs around him before lifting her.

She let out a chuckle as he carried her to the bedside. As if she were as fragile as glass, he laid her body down before taking a seat right beside her. He took her small hand in his, lifting it to his mouth and kissing his way from her wrist to her fingers.

"Might we be interrupted?"

"I told them I wanted to be alone tonight."

Jon nodded, softly stroking her hand as the weight of such a responsibility sank in. When he had fallen for Daenerys, he knew she was no maid. And once they were wed, he had never so much as imagined a scenario in which he might take someone's maidenhead. His skin prickled with a sudden nervous sweat.

Dany lifted her hand from his to brush it against his cheek. The king closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

Selfishness had carried him up the steps of the stone tower and straight into her chamber. Yet, though she had freely granted him the honor, this wasn't his experience to have—but to _give_.

Jon shrugged off his boots, lifting the chain that hung from his shoulders up and over his head, letting it fall gently to the floor.

Dany's every breath came quicker than the last. She began to twirl her mother's ring around her finger as she watched. The simple gesture hinted her nervousness, he knew, despite the brave face she wore.

"You can change your mind at any time," he assured her.

Only when she nodded, did he continue. Slowly, he peeled his restrictive jacket away until he was left in only his trousers and a dark linen shirt.

The king made a slow crawl up the mattress, settling gently on his side. He placed a palm just above her belly, his hand rising with her every breath.

"Come here," he whispered and pulled her near, her back flush against his chest.

The princess let out an exhale as she settled against him, their bodies fitting together as perfectly as sword and sheath. He could feel her muscles loosening as she relaxed and melted into his embrace.

With a careful hand, Jon removed the dragon pins that sat perched atop her shoulders, the metal clinking as he dropped them to the floor below. Dany inhaled, holding her breath as Jon's hands swept softly down her arms, goosebumps raising again as she shivered.

He brushed the hair away from her neck to nuzzle there, a quick pulse jumping under his nose. A dab of potent spiceflower emanated just under her ear as he breathed her in. Her every deep breath swelled against his arms as he held her tight.

The king leaned forward to touch his lips against her skin, pressing kisses all along her neck. Dany gasped, her back arching against him. 

Small, soft fingertips swirled over his hands and wrists, even pushing up his sleeve to chase more bare skin. He sampled tastes of her from collarbone to earlobe, his warm breath misting her neck. She sighed, squeezing the muscles of his forearms as if to hold onto him for support as she writhed.

Dany turned onto her back then, tongue wetting her lips as she peered up at him with drunken eyes, chest heaving as she quivered.

"Kiss me."

When Jon lifted a hand to cup her face, she turned her head to press a kiss into his palm, nudging his hand as it went on to caress her. His fingers sank straight into her soft waves as he bowed his head to obey her wish.

He hovered at her mouth—dodging her efforts as she craned to reach him. Instead, he placed a kiss just beside her lips, and another on her cheek. Dany whimpered. On the opposite side of her mouth, he gave her two more kisses to match before dipping down to peck her chin. And then her nose. And finally, he clenched his eyes shut as he planted a deep kiss on her forehead.

The princess stretched again, catching his chin in his descent and giving him a kiss there in turn. With both hands, she dragged him down until his mouth was level with hers, breathing in her every exhale and leaving him lightheaded.

She sighed in relief as their lips met, her hands tightly grasping his neck. Silver silk slipped through his fingers as they slid down from her head in exploration, swirling little shapes all along her bare arms.

"Touch me."

The command came just as his own patience began to wane, his palms itching to feel her body warm against them. From her arms, his hands drifted to her waist, sweeping softly across her belly, inching upward, stopping just short of her breasts. There was a small clap of skin as her thighs met, her knees rubbing together in anticipation as his palms skimmed again across the thin silk, lower, stopping when he felt a few coarse hairs popping up through the fabric.

The princess threw back her head, her chest bumping his as her body twisted into a deep arch. Jon bent to kiss her neck, feeling the swell against his lips as she swallowed. Careful not to leave any marks upon her, he took small bites there as his hands retraced their path up her body, gently grazing the bulge of her left breast. She shuddered as he teased her nipple with feathery sweeps of his thumb. Once it had stiffened, he moved onto the right breast to mimic each movement.

Jon kissed his way up to her mouth again as his hand moved downward and over her navel. Once he'd found the small patch of hair above her cleft, he traced small circles there, drawing them lower on each pass. Dany didn't writhe this time, she had drawn her muscles taut, as if to lock herself in place, every breath a small battle in her lungs as she tried her best to keep calm.

After another few circular sweeps, Jon felt a dampness there, all but adhering the fabric to her skin. The discovery drawing from him a shuddering gasp.

The princess parted her legs—her face scrunched into an expression of aching anguish that the king knew all too well. If this Dany had been the one still asleep in their borrowed bed, he might just tear the flimsy silk from her body and bury himself between her legs.

At a sudden impasse, Jon softly stroked her, stoking her torment as he considered his next move, fingertips growing wetter the longer he hesitated.

Violet eyes snapped open and Jon yanked his hand away almost out of fright.

"Undress me," she begged, clambering gracelessly onto her hands and knees as he followed suit.

She shifted her weight between legs as he helped to drag the gown upward, gathering the fabric in his palms. Together, they drew the silk over her head before letting it flutter to the ground below.

Jon's breath shook as he exhaled, unable to help himself from gaping at her naked body—eyes darting from her breasts to her hips, from her hips to her thighs, and finally, hanging on the soft silver mound there between them.

_Gods_.

The princess flushed deeper then, her gaze falling from his as she lifted an arm to cover her body in embarrassment.

"You're gorgeous," he assured her with what little breath she hadn't stolen from him. "Perfect."

Dany pressed her lips together to hide her smirk as she inched toward him. Timid fingers tugged at his tucked shirt.

Hoping his nakedness might set her more at ease with her own, Jon helped her by pulling the linen from the band of his trousers. It was only when they had pulled it halfway up his torso that he paused to hesitate—afraid to frighten her with what was underneath.

"I want to see you," she frowned.

The king nodded as together, they continued to undress him. It was his turn to squirm under her scrutiny as her eyes fell first upon his scars. There was little judgment there as she lifted a hand to press it to his heart before letting her eyes wander further and take in their fill.

Even as a maid half his age, this Dany seemed pleased by his body, her hand sweeping over his chest and shoulders, giving his bicep a squeeze. She took another deep breath before her hands fell to his waistband to tug at the laces on his trousers.

Jon stopped her. And just as her brow furrowed again with concern, he opened his mouth to explain himself.

"I won't put it near you until you're ready," he promised.

"I'm ready."

The king grinned. "Not yet."

He moved toward her, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her body closer until they were pressed together. Jon couldn't resist tasting her mouth again. The feel of her skin against his had ignited something deep inside, body burning hot with desire. Without thinking, his tongue had delved straight between her lips, kissing her with an unbridled ferocity that made her so weak in the knees he had to hold her upright. Out of habit, his hand slipped lower to grope her bottom. She gasped.

It was no longer enough for him—he needed to taste her.

Supporting her back, Jon guided her down on the bed. Her legs fell open as he lowered himself onto her, wetting the front of his trousers. He groaned against her skin, his cock giving an impatient twitch that made her gasp again in surprise.

Jon took his time as he kissed his way down her body, taking proper tastes of both nipples and the fleshy part of each breast. From her navel he looked up at her face to spy her reaction—cheeks stricken pink and eyes wide with intrigue.

The scent between her legs permeated the air around them, overriding even the notes of spiceflower that clung to her soft skin. His mouth watered as the smooth path he'd taken all the way down had finally given way to a tuft of silvery hair. He slowed his kisses then, though his tongue quivered in anticipation, just like her body.

Dany squirmed, her muscles locking the closer he came to tasting her soft and velvety lips. He couldn't help himself from drawing his head back just as he had arrived there, to steal a proper peek from between her legs.

Flushed pink were two petal-soft lips amidst a sparse nest of silver wisps, a syrupy wetness already dribbling from her opening. Jon licked his lips, manually spreading her legs further with either hand. He ran his thumbs over each crease of her thighs as he inched closer to her center, his wandering fingertips making her cry so loudly she had to muffle herself with an arm. As lightly as he could manage, he combed his fingernails through the soft hair there, careful to avoid her lower lips until-

" _Please_..."

-she begged him.

His eyes shot upward then, noticing just how red her cheeks had grown as she nursed them with either hand, watching intently with a mixture of both embarrassment and delight as he examined her.

He started at the source, lapping the dew there and licking upward, as slowly as his patience would allow. Her lower lips quivered against his tongue as her muscles contracted - she endured several long, thorough strokes as he tasted her. The princess began to pant, pulling at the sheets to release some of her mounting frustration.

Once she had eased into the sensation, Jon used her hips to pull himself closer. He kissed the crest of her cunt, pressing just one there at first—then several in slow succession. She must've liked it, since she'd spread even further for him, her lower lips opening too. He nibbled at the hood there, his tongue flitting just under it to tease the small, stiff bump.

"K- _k...ostilusss_..."

Had he not known the Valyrian word for ' _please_ ', he might not have recognized the sound as a word at all. Again, she begged him—but he didn't know whether it was to stop or to keep going.

To be safe, he continued, keeping up the momentum of his mouth's movements, even closing his eyes to concentrate. The space between her cries shortened, all of her muscles turning rigid as she began to shake. Her hands were on his head in an instant, perhaps for something to grab hold of as she rode the wave of her climax.

When she couldn't take any more, she let go of Jon's hair, and collapsed into her pillows. Jon placed a kiss to her knee before rising to his. And since she had tugged most of it from its binding already, he took down his hair and shook it out as he relished the sight of her—all reservation forgotten as she recovered, her body splayed out before him.

Shyly, she grinned when she finally opened her eyes again—her flushed cheeks bringing out the red tones in her violet eyes. Jon licked his lips, for there was no sight more delicious than his wife unraveled by his own hand. Or in this case, his mouth...

Her gaze fell to his trousers, from which his erection protruded.

"Will you take them off now?"

The king shook his head. "Not yet."

"Am I not ready?"

"Not yet," he repeated with a grin.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he slithered his way over her body to settle again at her side. Dany ran her fingers through his hair as he bent to kiss her once more. She chuckled against his lips as it fell over her face and tickled her skin.

Together, the pair mapped each other's bodies with wandering hands—Dany even bravely brushing her fingers over the front of his pants, delighting in the moan that slipped from his lips. With his hunger incited, he dipped again to taste her breasts—settling on the one closer to his mouth. He latched onto her nipple, teasing her with both tongue and soft pulls of his teeth, until he felt another pang of hunger he couldn't ignore. Jon settled back into the pillows as his hand went roaming further south.

Between her legs he teased her lips, enjoying the warmth of her breath as she groaned against him. Not until all four of his fingers had been soaked through did he dare to venture inside. With his middle finger, he penetrated her slowly, the small intrusion enough to make her gasp. Dany clung to him for support as he pushed his way further in, letting her get used to the feeling before moving it within her. From the inside, her muscles clamped tightly against his finger.

He kept that pace for a couple of minutes until the clenching ceased, dipping in a second finger as he entered her again. This time when she gasped, it sounded more like one of pleasure than of pain. As his thrusts continued, he twisted his fingers, helping both to tease her as well as open her up. When he found that sweet spot inside of her, he curled his fingertips against it, rubbing her vulva from the outside with his thumb. Within, her walls fluttered around his fingers, hips bucking as she sought to take him deeper—the sopping wet squish like music to his ears.

His cock jerked with envy as he pulled his fingers out of her.

"Now you're ready," he whispered.

Unhooking her arms from his shoulders, the princess brushed the front of his trousers again, enclosing her hand around his cock to feel its shape. Jon exhaled, his whole body bucking forward at the sweet touch. He pressed his forehead to hers as she pulled apart the laces to loosen them, slipping her hand down the front. Unlike his current wife, who knew her way around his cock better than even he, the soft touches of the princess weren't about his pleasure, but her curiosity—squeezing it in her hand to feel the texture, running her fingertips down his length to determine his size.

After having coasted so long on her pleasure, he couldn't take much more.

Peeling himself away from Dany, Jon scrambled to rid himself of his socks and trousers. Once he was naked, her eyes fell right on his cock, her face flushing the same deep red color. Chest still heaving, Dany opened her legs again in invitation—her cunt swollen and glistening.

Jon shuddered at the sight alone. Taking his cock in his hand, he moved closer, gently rubbing it over her vulva to gather the wetness. Dany sucked in a breath as if to hold it, closing her eyes. With just the tip, he pushed inside of her, trying his best not to get ahead of himself with her walls already clenched so tightly around him.

Careful to keep his cock in place, Jon lowered himself onto her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand until he'd dipped low enough to kiss her there. By another inch or two, he penetrated further, kissing her neck as she tilted her head back. He kept his thrusts shallow as she adjusted to his width.

Wrapping her arms around his back, Dany pulled him closer, finally opening her eyes to look at him. Relieved, he saw no trace of pain there as he moved within her, her lidded gaze dripping with both affection and lust. He paused to push his hair back and to stare, unobstructed, into her eyes—certain now that in any time or place in all the world, they'd come together in just the same way.

Overcome, Jon leaned forward to smother her with wet, open-mouthed kisses, finally losing himself in the sensation of being buried so deep inside of her. Though Dany cried against his lips, he didn't dare relent—bucking his hips gently, in just the way he knew she liked. As his own climax drew nearer, he felt a sudden panic that hadn't haunted him once in the last ten years.

He managed to slip out of her not a moment too soon, his cock spilling onto her stomach as he groaned, quickly grasping it in his hand to give it another few strokes until he'd finished altogether.

Drained in more ways than one, Jon fell on top of her, their bodies glued together with seed and sweat. Dany stroked and gathered his hair, sweeping it off his neck to help him cool while he caught his breath.

"I wish you could stay," she sighed.

"I wish I could take you with me."

Vision or not, it felt so wrong to leave her there alone after what they'd just done. Another panic set in, recalling the way that just mere hours ago, four versions of her had dissipated before his eyes, and just how quickly these apparitions could go up in smoke.

"Dany," he croaked, his eyes and nose suddenly stinging with the threat of tears. "I don't know how much longer the vision will last."

"Then kiss me," she pleaded. "Kiss me for however long you can stay."

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat as he gave a nod. "Yes, my queen."

The violet eyes that welled with tears went wide.

"Queen?"

When her gasp echoed, he knew he was about to lose her. In desperation, he lurched forward to capture her lips in one last kiss. Despite his best efforts, no matter how hard he held onto her, she faded all the same.

He faltered once the room fell away entirely, disoriented as he found himself again upon a cold stone slab—though his hands were still warm from her touch, his lips moist with her kiss.

Jon's chest heaved in pain, his brimming eyes finally spilling over.

. . .

The king's heart hung heavy in his chest as he returned to the inn, awash with an entire spectrum of emotion.

He unlocked the door and shuffled inside, gently closing it after him so as not to wake his wife.

Yet from behind him, her voice called.

"And just where have you been?"

Though she smirked as he turned, the question tugged his heart strings just right. Again, he felt his face creasing into a scowl, a hot tear escaping to stream down his cheek. He dropped both his chain and jacket onto the floor and fell to his knees before her, pressing his face against her belly.

"Oh, love," she stroked his hair. "I didn't mean anything by it-"

"I know," he croaked, clinging to her pitifully, as if to soothe the trauma of having watched her disappear.

"What is it, Jon? What happened?"

After a moment or two, he peeled himself from her body enough to meet her eyes.

"You did," he breathed. "I just saw you in Pentos."

"When?"

"Seventeen years ago."

Understanding his grief now, the queen knelt too, wrapping her arms tightly around him. While the turn of events probably wasn't what she had planned for by bringing him there, he knew he wouldn't trade the experience for anything in all the world. Since arriving in Qarth, he had fallen for his wife in all-new ways, stealing glimpses into her life before him.

And while he might not have been able to change her past—he could ensure that as her future unfolded he'd be there, steadfast by her side.

* * *

Endless thanks to [Dragon_and_Direwolf](https://dragonanddirewolf.tumblr.com/) and [LadyTarg](https://dracarysqueen.tumblr.com/) for conspiring together for this beautiful piece here. When I saw it, I was sobbing just like Dany. ♥ 

**Author's Note:**

> To clear up any possible confusion, Jon didn't actually travel to the past or effect anything in the current timeline.
> 
> Unfortunately, I am a day late in releasing this fic due to coming down with what I hope is a cold... *bites nails* which means the next two installments might be late, too. But they're coming! As ever, thanks for reading! ♥


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